Uncoincidental Malady
by twounderscorethreefour
Summary: I wouldn't get too close," Kyle warned, his voice thick with congestion. "I'm probably contagious." "I don't care," Stan dismissed and pulled Kyle into his arms. Style. Drabble.


This is, by far, my favorite fandom. Sometimes before I go to sleep, I like to elaborately write stories in my head. Sometimes they get out of control as I get closer to sleep, and if I'm lucky enough to remember them, I write them down.

They'd only been officially going out for about a week, their first date kept simple; dinner at Shakey's and a late movie afterwards. The two had been skeptical about announcing their relationship to the public, but after Tweek had unintentionally outed himself and Craig (during one of his frequent spastic outbursts), Kyle figured that Monday would be the right time to follow their good example and make his romantic relationship with his best friend a communal fact.

Stan had been less than enthusiastic about doing so, given the town's already bigoted opinion on homosexuality – but he'd agreed to do so if Kyle would come with him, starting with their friends at school and ending with their parents.

However, when Monday came, Kyle was nowhere to be seen.

Stan hadn't originally figured that Kyle was one to chicken out. In fact, out of everyone, Kyle was last to back down from a challenge. But when second period began and Kyle wasn't in his usual seat next to his (now) boyfriend, Stan, the raven-haired adolescent pulled out his phone to learn of the Jew's whereabouts.

Kyle had already beaten him to it. Stan's phone emitted a rhythmic buzz and a text message appeared on the screen.

_Sorry. Sick day._

Ah. He'd remembered Kyle coughing frequently as they played various video games the day before, but had ignored it for the most part. Stan immediately typed a reply, failing to follow Kyle's example of consistently proper grammar and punctuation.

_how bad is it_

Class commenced, and Stan was forced to conceal his phone in fear of being caught and having it confiscated – Park County High had a strict No Cell Phones in Class policy. Despite this, he still would have felt it vibrate in his pocket if Kyle had texted back, but he didn't.

If Stan were Kyle, he would have impulsively bolted from campus and trekked to his ailing friend—boyfriend—?'s house. But Stan had more common sense than Kyle did, and thus faked a family emergency as an excuse to leave school early, only three periods into the day.

Park County High was conveniently located in South Park, and the drive from the institution to the Broflovski residence was a short one. The car wasn't in the driveway, which sent a wave of relief over Stan. This meant that Kyle's illness wasn't serious enough for his mother to stay home. It also meant that, well, Kyle's mother wasn't home.

He waited approximately five minutes for Kyle to open the door, an unusual occurrence; given that the redhead often rushed to the entrance when he knew Stan was coming over.

When Kyle finally answered, he was leaning against the door frame, his cheeks stained pink from fever. His eyes were bright but glazed over, and his lips curled up at the sight of Stan.

"Hey," He rasped, and then cleared his throat. "It's only ten-thirty, how'd you get out of school?"

"Not important," Stan dismissed. He let himself inside and watched as Kyle emitted a string of sticky coughs, each rattling deep in his chest.

"Oh," Stan winced in concern. "You really are sick, huh?"

"Mmm," Kyle mumbled in confirmation and took a seat on the couch, wrapping a blanket around his scrawny frame. "I guess. I sound worse than I feel."

"You do sound pretty bad," Stan admitted, then joined the pale teenager on the couch.

"I wouldn't get too close," Kyle warned, his voice thick with congestion. "I'm probably contagious."

"I don't care," Stan overlooked and pulled Kyle into his arms.

The television was playing some old monster movie, and the autumn sun left a glare. Kyle lowered the volume and shifted his position so that he was facing Stan.

"I really don't want you do get sick," He explained, and Stan couldn't help but note how cute Kyle's serious tone sounded when his articulation was so badly skewed. He handed him a tissue.

"Here, you might actually sound comprehensive after you blow your nose." Stan teased.

"Shut up," Kyle retorted with a sheepish grin, then obliged. After tossing the soggy Kleenex into the trash bin, he grimaced. "So gross. I hate being sick."

"Kind of ironic that you're always sick, then, isn't it?" Stan mused. Kyle coughed harshly, but gave no verbal response.

"Have you taken anything for that cough?" Stan queried. "Sounds like it hurts."

"Never got around to it," Kyle answered. He felt Stan's palm on his cheek.

"You're kind of warm; sure you don't want some Tylenol?" Stan offered. Kyle shook his head and insisted that he would be all right, that he was sick often enough to know that the cough and fever wouldn't last.

Stan shrugged and accepted Kyle's answer, then allowed himself to become engrossed in the ending of the black and white horror film on TV.

A couple of throat-scraping sneezes tore Stan's attention away from the television, and he looked at Kyle, who was bent at the waist with a tissue pressed to his nose.

"Gesundheit," Stan said, chuckling.

Kyle groaned and leaned back against the sofa, opposite from Stan.

"You don't have to worry about me catching whatever you have," Stan reminded.

And, as if to prove it, he leaned over and pressed their lips together.


End file.
